retreat to the roof of the coach, there was not a man at table that was
not convulsed with laughter---and, shall I acknowledge it, even I myself
was unable to withstand the effect, and joined in the general chorus
against myself.

"Well," said the remorseless wretch, as he finished his story, "if ye
haven't the hard hearts to laugh at such a melancholy subject. Maybe,
however, you're not so cruel after all--here's a toast for you, 'a speedy
recovery to Cusack Rooney.'" This was drank amid renewed peals, with all
the honors; and I had abundant time before the uproar was over, to wish
every man of them hanged. It was to no purpose that I endeavoured to
turn the tables, by describing Fin's terror at my supposed resemblance to
a highwayman---his story had the precedence, and I met nothing during my
recital but sly allusions to mad dogs, muzzles, and doctors; and
contemptible puns were let off on every side at my expense.

"It's little shame I take to myself for the mistake, any how," said Fin,
"for putting the darkness of the night out of question, I'm not so sure I
would not have ugly suspicions of you by daylight."

"And besides, Doctor," added I, "it would not be your first blunder in
the dark."

"True for you, Mr. Lorrequer," said he, good-humouredly; "and now that I
have told them your story, I don't care if they hear mine, though maybe
some of ye have heard it already--it's pretty well known in the North
Cork."

We all gave our disclaimers on this point, and having ordered in a fresh
cooper of port, disposed ourselves in our most easy attitudes, while the